I Need A Guy More Like Him
by ConfuzzledAtLife
Summary: Sandy dumps Soda, but not for the reason anyone imagined. Now a TWOSHOT!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: IMPORTANT: **This may sound slightly high brow at the beginning, but has a very stupid end. You have been warned. I got this story idea from something I read on the site FML.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the Outsiders.

X X X X

He'd never felt lower. Everything, from street lights to schoolchildren, reminded him of Ponyboy. And thoughts of Ponyboy reminded him of happy memories, times when they would laugh, tell each other how their day went… He even missed Pony's sleeptalking.

Stuff like that reminded him of how times weren't like that now. They didn't laugh together anymore, because Pony was gone. He had vanished along with Johnny, and the uncertainties now plaguing Soda's mind were consuming him. Was he hungry? He hadn't exactly run with anything, unless Johnny had happened to have some cash on him. When you considered the fact that he was a greaser, that was pretty unlikely.

It had never been like this before. Not this… this gut wrenching sadness. He couldn't help but let his mind jump to the worst case scenario. This wasn't supposed to happen to Pony! He was the one that was supposed to get out of here, but that destiny had been cut short.

His thoughts were drifting to dangerous territory again. Soda didn't want to think of Pony in a car crash, or cold on the streets, or alone and hungry, wondering why his brothers hadn't found him. Soda couldn't help but think it was his fault he hadn't found any hint whatsoever of Pony's location. He'd tried bullying Dallas into telling him, but you didn't normally expect to bully Dally into anything and succeed. All he'd managed to do was extract a promise of the delivery of one measly letter and some money. He wasn't sure if Dally would stick to his word; he didn't exactly understand the brothers' relationship.

So he decided to go and see the one person who could make him feel even close to normal. Sandy's house wasn't far, which was convenient since Darry had taken the truck to work and the members of the gang who had wheels were probably off getting hammered. Soda walked the short distance quickly, wanting to at least get his heart rate up a little and stop himself feeling so damn lousy.

He didn't bother knocking at the screen door; Sandy's family knew him by now and besides, they were probably off at work, or gambling. Both of Sandy's parents had problems gambling, and it meant more debt than they should have.

Sure enough, nobody was home but Sandy, sitting on her couch and staring at the TV. She didn't leap up to greet him as she was wont to do, and as Soda came closer, his confusion grew. There was nothing on the television screen.

"Hi," he said, and his voice sounded much too loud in the quiet room. Sandy's head jerked up, but she didn't beam at him. Her mouth remained a perfectly neutral, perfectly straight line.

"Hi," she said roughly. She stood up, and even her body language more closely resembled how she was around Darry than around Soda. Stiff; respectful, but definitely stiff. Soda ignored this, thinking maybe he was reading too deeply into everything since his conversation with Dally. Maybe he was becoming paranoid.

But no, there definitely was something wrong with this picture. Sandy's gorgeous blue eyes weren't meeting his, but were staring resolutely at a spot just above his shoulder. Her hair fell unbrushed, and by the looks of her hands she had spent the morning biting her nails. "Is something wrong?" asked Soda as he felt panic begin to set in. Maybe he _was _being paranoid, but he couldn't handle it if Sandy's mother died and she needed a shoulder to cry on. He had enough problems of his own.

She now turned fully to face the window. "Soda," she began, her voice still hard, "I can't keep doing this."

He was paranoid he was paranoid he was paranoid he was paranoid. Soda refused to believe what his instincts were screaming at him: that Sandy had had enough, that she was moving on. He refused to believe she was dumping him. "Doing what?" he asked, and he was mortified to hear his voice come out a frightened squeak.

Sandy approached him slowly, her eyes slowly coming up to meet his. "I'm sorry," she muttered, "but I need a guy who can be more like Edward."

Oh God, she was dumping him! Why had he not seen it coming? Was he too wrapped up in his own problems to pay attention to Sandy? After all, that was why Sylvia kept cheating on Dally. But thinking of himself as being like Dally when it came to relationships made him physically ill. He didn't want to deal with this! "Who… who's Edward?" Soda managed to say, trying to fight the lump in his throat he had been battling for long before he came here. Lord, he'd just wanted some comfort!

Without missing a beat, Sandy pulled out her copy of _Twilight_.

Wordlessly, Soda sat down heavily on the couch. This was a thousand times worse than Dally and Sylvia's relationship. He'd just been dumped for a hundred year old pedophilic fictional vampire.

X X X X

**A/N**: I saw this posted on FML and decided to fanfic it. Hope you liked! Please drop me a review, but don't flame me because you were too stupid to read the first A/N.

Additional disclaimer: put here because it'd spoil the ending. I don't own Twilight. I do not wish I did. I would be embarrassed if I had written that. And before you get stuck into me criticizing before I try it: I've read the whole series, I have my opinion, you have yours.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: That's right, folks, this is now a TWOSHOT! I'm a bit nervous about posting this since I don't think it lives up to the previous chapter, but it's all in good fun and, as any regular correspondents of yours truly would know, this is the evening ending my four all nighters in eight days. Yep, I've gone four nights without sleep in little over a week, two of them were in a row. Why? School. So anyway, I needed to de-stress (I blinked last night and when I opened my eyes I was on the floor – don't worry I've quit my homework now) and this is how I do it.

X X X X

It was a miracle Sodapop Curtis made it in to work that day. If it hadn't been for Darry's cajoling and gentle prodding, he still would be lying in bed pretending the world didn't exist. In fact, he was really starting to wish he'd taken that course of action instead of the responsible breadwinner role he was, at only sixteen, forced to play.

Steve was treading around him so carefully, as though he thought Soda would break down at any moment. Soda didn't exactly blame him; he himself felt that way. He had told Steve and Darry about Sandy. He hadn't had a choice; they had both been home when he arrived, and he had been bawling his eyes out at the time. Even so, Steve's careful tiptoeing around the issue only reminded Soda of everything that had happened.

"Curtis!"

Soda's head jerked up from where it had somehow fallen on his chest. He had been standing outside, brooding, for a while now; they had not had many customers that morning, and Soda had had nothing better to do than stand around. Hopefully now he'd get a job to do that would take his mind off Sandy. "Yes, sir?" he asked, trying to put on a face close to his former jovialness.

"The paperback stand's all out, come in out of that heat and restock it, will you?" the boss asked.

Normally Soda would have bounded in, tipping his hat for good measure, but today he just nodded curtly and went inside the shop. He was too depressed to do anything funny. He was depressed for his own situation, and worried out of his brain about Ponyboy's. He'd give anything, even have Sandy dump him all over again, if he could just get Pony back.

The coolness of the newly installed air conditioner his him with a blast, and Soda only just realized exactly how hot it had been outside. The DX sold a little of everything, and recently the boss had ordered the garbage pulp fiction novels to try and bring in a little extra cash. They'd been selling well recently, and as soon as Soda opened the box he knew why. _Twilight_.

If there was a God, he must be laughing right now. Of all the books, Soda was being forced to restock _Twilight_, the very book whose sparkly pasty male protagonist had cost Soda the love of his life. He almost threw the novels onto the stand, wishing he could take out his own hurt on them.

"Er… could I have some help please?" said a familiar voice over Soda's shoulder.

Soda stopped throwing books, and turned slowly to face Sandy, who was standing very nervously and looking as though she wished she were somewhere else. God… she had no idea. Soda would give anything to be somewhere else right now. He didn't want to start crying again and ruin whatever slim possibility there was of Sandy taking him back. _No_, his mind said. _Who are you kidding? How the hell can you compete with her imagination?_

The voice was right; Soda _was _competing with her imagination. He'd never tell, but he'd read _Twilight_… well, he'd borrowed the audio book from the library. It wasn't like he'd _wanted _to, or had any interest in whatsoever, but he just wanted to see what the hype was about. He'd figured it had to be good if even the intellectual girls who came a'flirtin' had a copy under their arms. What he'd discovered though, was that Edward Cullen (and his slightly less worshipped better half, Bella) was so poorly drawn out as a character that it was simple to just build one's perfect boyfriend into his name. Sandy had created the perfect guy imagination could buy, and Soda was just the waste product.

Soda walked behind the counter and placed his hands upon it, feeling nervous. It had never been like this with Sandy before. It had always been vibrant… passionate… then the autumn leaves began to fall. "What can I get you?" _Please, God, save me whatever dignity I have left. Don't let my voice be shaking_.

"Just a Pepsi," she said quietly. "And some smokes for the old man." She gestured awkwardly in the direction of the parking lot, but Soda didn't see her father's car. It didn't matter to him; he'd used that line plenty of times when Pony sent him for smokes.

He turned to the fridge, slowly taking a Pepsi down. He stood for a bit, pondering. Sandy could have gotten sodas and cigarettes anywhere, but she'd come to him. She knew his work schedule; she knew he'd be here. Maybe it wasn't too late.

He put the Pepsi on the counter with a little more force than necessary. "Sandy, you gotta take me back," he said, not caring that he was begging. "Please, I'll do anything… I'll wear body glitter anytime the sun shines, I swear!"

Sandy was shaking her head, shutting her eyes as they began to pool up with moisture. "It's not _about _the body glitter!" she cried. "You… you're too tanned. You ain't mysterious and… and you grease your hair, for vamp's sake! I've found a guy who _is _all the things I want him to be. I'm moving to Florida with him next week."

Sodapop felt his heart break all over again. Oh God, she couldn't… she just couldn't reject him all over again! She must have come in here for a reason! "Please Sandy!" he begged. "I love you too much… doesn't Edward love Bella? You can be my Bella –"

"It's _too late_, Sodapop!" Sandy cried. "The thing is… I'm pregnant."

You could have heard a pin drop. Soda stared at her in stunned silence, wishing the blow didn't hurt as much as it did, or at least that it didn't show up on his face. He wasn't letting this go without a fight. "I'll raise it with you, Sandy, please –"

"_No_," Sandy said firmly, all traces of tears now gone. "I told you, I already have a guy! It's _not you_, Sodapop. We're going to move to Florida to be with my grandmother, and as soon as we've saved up some, we're going on to Forks. It's too late, Soda. He's the father of my baby girl now. He's the father of Renesmée."

Soda almost choked, not that he had anything in his mouth to choke _on_, only that… that word. It couldn't be called a name. It just couldn't. "Sandy… did you really think that through?" he managed.

"What?" she snapped, flicking her head in a manner Soda had long since associated with Socy horses. Not the greaser horses, like Mickey Mouse. Just Socy ones.

"I mean… Renée is a nice name. Esmé's okay too. But ain't it one of those _never shall the two meet _things?"

Her mouth opened in outrage, and for the first time Soda noticed that she really couldn't pull off the move. She looked a little weak trying to look intimidating. "It's not like you can talk, _Sodapop_!" she said shrilly.

"Hey!" he cried suddenly. She'd dumped him, ripped out his heart at a time he was already feeling worse than he thought possible, but she couldn't make fun of his name. His name meant something. It was something from his father, a gift that could never be taken from him. "You don't say that! My name… my dad used his imagination when he named me and Pony. It was something from _him_. You… your poor daughter is going to grow up with a name ripped out of a page in a five dollar table book! I'm trying to look out for her, Sandy!"

Sandy glared at him venomously, and though it hurt, it wasn't as excruciating as he had thought it would be. Hearing that name seemed to have changed it all. Sandy really had been blinded by the hype. "Do you _want _me back or not?" she asked.

"I already said I'd raise the baby with you, Sandy! I'll marry you and raise the baby… we can pretend this never happened, I swear –"

"Stop it," she said firmly. She looked away for a moment, staring out the window before her eyes fixed back on Soda's. "You know in _New Moon_, when Edward leaves Bella?"

"No."

Sandy continued like she hadn't heard him. "She was so depressed, she couldn't go on. She tried to kill herself. You have to know this. Everyone who's read the book does."

"I haven't read it," Soda said shortly. He had not read the godawful second book; the first on tape had been bad enough. But he knew the whole plot; it was impossible to be in a public area (save the men's bathroom) and not hear the entire plot to the series blurted out of the mouths of teenage girls.

"That's how I would feel if I left my Edward. I couldn't go on without him. He's my everything. I'm sorry."

And with that, Sandy Cunningham walked out of Sodapop Curtis' life.

_She never took her Pepsi_, Soda thought as he opened it and took a long drink. _And I never gave her her smokes. _

No, it didn't hurt quite so much anymore. Now he knew the depths of the insanity that flowed from that book, he was actually glad he wouldn't have to be a part of it. Sandy leaving would stay with him forever; there was no doubt about that, but for the moment, Sodapop thought he was going to be okay.

When he got home that night, the weight of the two losses he was still feeling began to fall back on his shoulders. Sandy, at least, was safe, even if she wasn't with him, but Ponyboy… he still had no idea.

He felt his mood slide slowly downwards as he ate alone; a missing brother, apparently, was not enough reason for Darry to get any time off work. He knew he needed a distraction; Soda was good at knowing how to drag himself out of depressing moods. Last time, his choice had been to go to Sandy. This time, he chose to do something a lot safer, and infinitely more amusing.

He walked into his and Pony's room, trying to ignore the crushing absence of the room's only other occupant. Focusing back on his goal, he pulled a dictionary from the shelf and walked back into the living room.

_The Twilight Saga_, that was what it was called. Huh. He'd find out if "saga" was another of those smart-people-like-Ponyboy words used to disguise something a lot less thrilling.

**sa-ga **[**sah**-_guh_]

_**noun**_

a medieval Icelandic or Norse prose narrative of achievements and events in the history of a personage, family, etc.

Well, _Twilight _certainly wasn't that.

any narrative or legend of heroic exploits.

Bella might have different opinions, but Soda thought a guy staring at you while you slept was considered _creepy and police worthy_, not _heroic_.

Also called saga novel. a form of the novel in which the members or generations of a family or social group are chronicled in a long and leisurely narrative.

Well, that was more like it. But who the hell would want to read _a long and leisurely narrative_?

X X X X

**A/N**: I don't know about America (this isn't the sort of stuff one finds on Google), but I'm from Australia and here gas stations sell literally everything, including novels, music… you name it. Even clothes sometimes.

Sorry for any misspelling of Twilight names. I specialize in the Outsiders, and all Google revealed was that Twilight fans have difficulty spelling Edward and Bella, let alone Renesmee (NO OFFENCE INTENDED. It might have been my wording on google that landed me with all the idiots.)

Please review, oh god please review! I've failed all my subjects and I keep getting "obviously a rush job" back on assignments. What the hell do they expect; I'm doing four all nighters a week! Anyway, compliment me. I am not beneath begging.


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